Paint For Me, And I'll Sing For You
by wish-upon-the-rainbow
Summary: He paints. She sings. She could never forget that painting at the Louvre Museum she saw 2 years ago.
1. Chapter 1

Rubbing away the sweat gathering on his forehead, a certain raven haired boy sighed. He was finally done with his painting. A satisfactory piece, he thought as he got down from the chair. Walking out to the balcony, he realized that the sun was already setting, it was already 6:37PM, and he could do with some Chinese for dinner. Grabbing his wallet from his messy beyond words table, he made his way to the nearby Chinese restaurant.

"Good evening, Natsume-san." The old lady sweeping the autumn leaves at the bottom of the apartment block greeted him as he walked by.

"Konbanwa Mitsuki-san." He politely greeted back. It was getting dark and he did not want to have wait for a billion years before he could have his meal. His stomach growled yet again.

"Ok. I get it, you want food." He spoke to himself. Ever since dropping out of high school to debut in the art scene, he has been cooping up in that tiny apartment, drawing day and night, with only an occasional piece that he would feel extremely proud of. Strolling along the stretch of shops, he did not realize that they just switched on the road lamps.

The vibration in his pocket broke his trail of thoughts and he reached for the phone. Looking at the Caller ID, his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"Hyuuga here."

"NATSUME-SAN. ARE YOU DONE WITH THAT ARTPIECE I TOLD YOU TO DO."

"Yes Ruka…"

"Good. If not I'm seriously getting killed by the gallery manager. Can I go over to get it now?"

"Huh? I'm out for dinner." Natsume pushed open the doors of the Chinese restaurant.

"Okay. I'll get it from you at 10. Is it fine?"

"Hn." Natsume flipped the phone shut before Ruka could go on about having a proper diet and eating more vegetables. Who likes vegetables in the first place, they get stuck in your teeth, and it's annoying.

The whole restaurant came to a total silence as Natsume walked to the counter. He raised his eyebrows as he stared at the menu, oblivious to the attention he was getting from the ladies around him. He shuddered when he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head backwards, he saw that it was a lady.

"And what may I do for you." He ignored her and continued to look at the menu.

"Young man, you do have quiet the figure there, would you want to model for my magazine?"

"Model?" He said it with a laugh. "I paint, but I don't model."

"You can earn quite a bi-"

"Can I have a bowl of wanton noodles, take away. Oh, remove the veg." Natsume told the man at the counter. "And you were saying?" He finally turned around to face the lady.

"Won't you model for me. You won't have a second chance you know." The lady leaned closer to the raven haired painter, trying to get a feel of his well-toned body.

"No interest." He grabbed the food that was ready on the counter and walked out of the restaurant.

The wind was cold tonight. He picked up his pace, so that his food would not turn cold by the time he reached home. He turned another corner and finally reached his block of apartments.

Unknown to him, there was a certain brunette who was stalking him quietly behind.

"Miss, may I help you?" Mitsuki-san, who was at the balcony asked her.

"Uhhh… it's nothing." She replied with a huge smile.

"I see, go home early, it's dangerous for a lady to be out late at night." Mitsuki-san advised her. The brunette nodded in vigor to show her she understood.

As the old lady walked back into the apartment, the brunette stared at the lights which were lit in the apartments.

"Ano… obaa-chan!" She stopped the old lady before she went it.

"Yes, young lady?"

"There's someone… by the name of Natsume Hyuuga living here right?"

"Yes, there is, is there anything you would want from him?" The old lady squinted her eyes to get a better look of the young lady standing in front of her.

"It's nothing! Thank you!" The brunette turned around and skipped away.

Natsume Hyuuga.

She finally found him.


	2. Chapter 2

She stood outside the Louvre, the famous museum in the capital of France, Paris, with a big black camera hanging from her neck. Her mother had told her to attend this solo art exhibition on her behalf. She had originally made plans today, but she had to call everything off because of a few art pieces. But it's not like she was not willing to attend this anyway, she loved taking pictures.

High heels clicking gently against the wooden floor of the museum, she entered the museum, with style and grace. The people of Paris would have recognized her immediately, the daughter of famous soprano, _, but thank god for her disguise.

Her family had moved to France to make her mum's job more convenient for her and to cut down travelling time to her concert venues. Apparently, her mother still wanted her to keep the "Japanese roots", so occasionally, she would require her to attend art exhibitions like this.

She reached the gallery after walking down a few flight of steps. She was astounded by the paintings beauty the moment she stepped in. There was one that particularly caught her attention. Named Fake Purity, it left an extremely deep impression on her. It was a picture with deep meaning. A pond filled with many lotus flowers, of all shapes and sizes. But there was one flower that stood out amongst the rest. Its petals were more elaborated, its pink a brighter shade. However, look at the reflections, the lotus' petals were torn and its' colours had faded. Fascinated by it's lustre, she took a step close towards the painting, lifted her camera and snapped a picture.

Gazing for a little while more at the painting, she was interrupted by the gallery master, Henrique.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle, _ça va_? " The old man grinned sincerely.

"_Ca va, et toi?_"

"Tres bien! Seems like your French has gotten better since the last time I met you, Mikan."

"I'm flattered." She bowed slightly and beamed.

"Are you enjoying the exhibition?" The fatherly figure asked her.

"Yes, Monsieur, this picture especially." She looked at the picture once again.

"Ah! This one. It's the artist's favourite."

"Oh really? May I know who the artist is?" She probed on further.

"You might not believe it, he is the same age as you! Really talented youngster." The old geezer gave a hearty laugh when he saw her surprised look.

Same age? Now that is freaky.

"Oh… I see, thank you for your time." She thanked him as he took his leave.

Lifting up her camera once again, she pressed the playback button. Smiling brightly at the picture she took, she carried on to view the rest of his works. Everything was just as splendid, wonderfully, skillfully done. But there remained something weird about this whole thing, the artist's name was kept anonymous.

Before she knew it, 2 hours had passed. Ah, there goes her plans of going to take a look at the Mona Lisa.


End file.
